Nothing but Prologues
by LauncesMechinist
Summary: As many of you know when I have an idea I tend to write it down. Well, these are some ideas for stories I have but cannot write at the moment due to being backed up with current works. As soon as I get some free time, I will start working on some of them, I just want your opinions as to what to work on. NOTE: This will NOT be just Fallout prologues. Other stories will be here to.
1. Prologue Fallout Louisiana

Good day everyone, Launces Mechanist here with another new story. As always, please review and let me know what you think of it.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING IN THE FALLOUT UNIVERSE. ONLY MY OCS.

Prologue: A Hunting We Will Go...

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Date: January 15th, 2285

Location: Old Town of Robeline, Louisiana

Time: 0845 (8:45 AM)

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A loud banging on the door barely registered to the soundly sleeping Drew Durr. Ignoring it once, he proceeded to return to sleep; however, the banging happened again, louder this time. This time, Drew scowled and cursed to himself.

( _I swear, if it's them Doverson boys banging on the tin with a sledgehammer again I'll give'em a cussin' they won't soon forget._ )

Out of instinct, he grabbed the pistol belt by his side and drew the old .357 revolver and checked it, making sure it was loaded. He sighed when he saw two spent rounds and four live ones. The two spent rounds used to bring down a bobcat that had entered the town last night. Drew reminded himself to check with Abraham Miller, the town trader, about a new box of bullets. He didn't need .357 bullets due to his having another weapon stashed in the house, but of all the weapons, the revolver was his favorite.

When his family first went into the Natchitoches Parish Vault in the Great War, his great-great-great-great grandfather had been a police officer and was placed in charge of the Vault security. His service sidearm was the weapon he used.

The banging once again got Drew's attention and, red-faced, he stormed for the door. Throwing it open, he expected the see either Tom Doverson or his younger brother Max. Instead, he came face to face with Marshall Dobson, the so-called 'law' in town. Dobson looked at him with a stern expression.

"Old Tack says you slugged him last night after you shot that bobcat. He woke up just a few hours ago with a large lump on the side of his face. Martha's screaming bloody murder and wants you locked up. However, because I don't trust them two nitwits as far as I could throw them, I want to hear your side of what happened." Drew sighed, he _knew_ this would happen this morning. He looked Dobson in the eyes and nods.

"I slugged the bastard because of what he's been doing. You know about him killing dogs or cats that come onto what he calls 'his property'. He then feeds the carcasses to the wild animals out there. Most likely his wife is in on it as well. I warned them time and again that feeding those beasts will make them think food is here. He heard me shoot the bobcat and ran for me cussing and flailing his fists. He tried to grab my weapon and I slugged him. I've lost three dogs to him and his 'sport' and this time I caught him in the act. He strung up a dog, probably the one the MaCall boy 'lost', and swung it over to the woodline. As soon as that bobcat came out I fired two bullets. When the cat dropped dead, he swung down from his back porch and confronted me. I don't know what Tack and Martha told ya, but my story's the truth."

Dobson nodded and looked satisfied.

"That goes along with what Newton told me and what Miss Jane heard. She told me she heard you shoot what sounded like a bobcat and then heard Tack cursing you as if you'd just tried to shoot him. I'll see the mayor and ask him what he wants to do. This ain't the first time Old Tack and his 'beloved' wife have done something stupid but this sure takes the cake. I was prepared to write up the charges: Killing of domesticated animals, feeding of said animals to wild beasts, attempted assault of a town hunter, attempted cursing..." Drew cocked an eyebrow at this.

"Attempted cursing? How the Hell does someone _attempt_ to curse?" Dobson laughed.

"That goes back to what Miss Jane said she heard. She said that Tack uttered the first few syllables when she heard something sounding like a..uh.. 'a frying pan slapping a fat pig's ass', then...blessed silence. If you try to speak to Tack, you'll only get mumbling from him. Apparently you made him live that old expression to 'bite your tongue'." Noticing Drew's expression, he elaborated.

"Your haymaker made what few teeth he had left clamp down on his tongue. Doc Collins spent the better part of the night and this morning trying to make sure he doesn't choke on his own blood. Either way, I came to get you. Will said he needed your help hunting. You know the backwoods and old trails around here. He's already talked Abe into setting a weapon and some rounds aside for you, though, knowing him he's only set aside enough rounds for you to kill a few deer with and not enough to bail you out of trouble should you run into something else out there. Louisiana Militia radio reports say that slavers and raiders have increased their patrols in the area, you may have to avoid your regular hunting grounds. The Natchitoches garrison is sending out squads to look for them but so far no luck. We've got two squads heading towards us to bolster our strength but they won't arrive until tomorrow. Just wanted to tell you this before you set out. Good luck, and happy hunting."

Dobson and Drew shook hands then he turned and headed up the hill towards the mayor's house. Drew on the other hand walked down the old Highway 6 from his home to the general store at the base of the hill.

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The bell at the door rang as Drew came in. As usual, Miguel was sitting in the bar side of the store enjoying some hard tack biscuit, radhog bacon, and powdered eggs for breakfast. Will was gazing at some new stock Abe had just gotten in from the caravan and Abe himself was busy reloading some bullets. As the door shut, Abe turned and looked at Drew, the man's perpetual scowl unyielding, but he nodded to the table by Will.

As long as Drew had known the merchant, he always scowled. The only time he had ever seen him smile was when he had closed a nine-hundred sixty seven cap deal with a traveling mercenary. Normally he only made about four-hundred caps in a standard day; primarily by selling bullets.

Doc Morgan had his clinic nearby and easily made a fortune-a-day selling his Stimpacks, Radaway, Rad-X, Med-X, and Antidotes. The good doctor was also known to occasionally prescribe alcohols such as whiskey or moonshine as painkillers, disinfectants, and sterilizing agents. The doc also made vast amounts of red wine to help bolster hunters and civilians from the effects of radiation from the nearby ruins of the city of Many.

Across Highway 6, Bruno had his gunsmithing shop and made a variety of weapons which he then sold either directly to the customer or sold to Abe.

As Drew walked towards the table, Will saw him and smiled, walked over and shook his hand.

"Mornin' Drew. I'm sure glad you're comin' with me." Drew nodded at his old friend and nodded to the table.

"So, what kind of firearm did you get Abe to set for me?" At that moment, Abe harrumphed loudly and walked over to him.

"This here's a one-of-a-kind weapon I bought during my last trip to Natchitoches. It's a rotary 4-10 shotgun. See the cylinder there? It holds six 4-10 shells and functions like a revolver. It's rifled to allow the accurate firing of slugs and is also modified to fire a broad spread of scattershot. This is easily the most expensive weapon I have and I'm a little apprehensive about just giving it to you. However, because I myself am low on supplies, I have decided to let you have a field trial with the weapon. I need to know how the weapon functions in the hands of a capable hunter." The merchant turned, grumbling about something then turned back.

"If it does well, I may consider letting Bruno take a look at it and make several copies of the gun. I expect that two ' _skilled_ ' hunters such as yourselves can bring home a lot of game. I'm planning on getting my smokehouse up and running soon for the summer months. Here's a box of extra shells, you boys bring me five radhogs and I'll put you both down for a once-in-a-lifetime offer: fifty percent off bullets for one week and plus, if you like, I'll throw in a shotgun for each of you once Bruno makes the copies." Will looked at Abe as if he'd sprouted wings and called himself an angel.

"You ain't ever given anything away for half off much less free. What's the idea and what's wrong with our standard fifty cap per animal bounty?" Abe's scowl deepened and his eyes narrowed and he lifted a finger.

"First off, your 'bounty' is a little too high for my liking. Second, if you two bring me back those animals, I'll have enough meat to make so much jerky, brisket, and barbecue to easily make up the loss of a few shells and two shotguns and then some. Now then, if that will be all, I have some more rounds to load. A repeat customer needs these 7mm rifle rounds reloaded and ready." With that, Abe went back to his reloading bench. Drew turned to Will.

"Well, that explains it. So, you think this job's worth it? I mean, we've got to go hunting anyway, but still, will it be worth some of Abe's roast hog?" Will looked at him like he was crazy, his mouth nearly watering at the thought.

"You kidding? Of course it'll be worth it! Besides, if we actually got a cap reward from the grinch we'd be paying him back for an order of brisket. No matter the job, this'll be worth it. Even though Miss Jane's roast pork is cheaper." This brought another deep _harrumph_ from Abe.

"It may be cheaper, but remember these words: you get what you pay fer and you can't put a shine on shit. Now git!"

Laughing, Drew and Will left the store, weapons in hand and set out for the woods.

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(four hours later)

Drew lined up the bead on the radhog that was on the other side of the small creek. Easily, he pulled the hammer back on the weapon and steadied his breath and pulled the trigger. A loud ' _bang_ ' echoed as the shotgun fired; the slug sped through the air and struck the massive hog right behind the shoulderblade and the hog dropped a second later. He smiled and signaled to Will to bring the cart up. Not wasting any time, Drew jumped into the creek and waded across to where the hog was and slung it over his shoulders, then waded back and nodded as the wagon arrived, Will on the seat and his horse, Charger, pulling it. He swung the boar into the wagon and climbed up by Will. Nodding he turned to him.

"That makes fifteen: ten for Miss Jane and five for Abe. We won't have to worry about pork for a while. Let's just hope Abe is good on his word." Will smiled and held up something, a device that Drew recognized immediately.

"Isn't that the old Pipboy I found? You actually fixed it?" Will nodded.

"Try it on, see how it works."

Drew fastened the Pipboy to his left arm and turned it on. The bioscanner beeped as his biometrics was detected and read. A little figure came on the screen and several bars stretched from the figure. A voice piped up from the screen.

" _Biometrics confirmed: Vital systems normal, non-vital systems normal, blood pressure 150/75, pulse 74, normal, bloodsugar levels 146, breathing rate:relaxed. No injuries or diseases detected. Radiation: 0 Rads. All systems normal._ " Drew looked at Will curiously.

"I thought Pipboys were silent, except for radio and audio logs or holotapes?"

"Not this one, look at the casing, that one's a Series D Pipboy 3500. According to what I know from the old Vault records, only seven thousand were made and they were distributed across the deep south and the far north. These devices have audio confirmation of health and also have a variety of other systems including a distress beacon and even a transmitter compatable with Ham radio signals. Speaking of radio, turn on the radio, Miss Jane never got her radio fixed and I want to hear what's going on in Natchitoches."

Drew laughed at his friend and turned on the radio and keyed to the Natchitoches radio station, all the while making a mental note to see about fixing the radio at Miss Jane's cafe. For a moment, there was static and then a voice came through.

" _Okay ladies and gentlemen, this is good ol' Danny Boy Rhodes, one of the four Rhodes Radio brothers and the DJ for Natchitoches and the entire Louisiana area. It is a sunny day today, minimal cloud cover. Temperature is a warm pre-summer eighty-five degrees and the fishing is wonderful so long as you don't mind the radigators and the gar. First off: the news:_

 _There was an an break-in today at the militia fort on Old River Road, a blackout allowed several individuals to sneak on base and break into the armory. Several carbines, grenades, bullets, and uniforms were stolen. Militia squads are on the lookout for anyone impersonating a militia soldier and outlying towns are requested to check their turntable schedules and be wary of early militia arrivals or unknown convoys. Guess they needed heavy firepower for something; I don't know about ya'll but I'm staying away from dark alleys for a while._

 _The militia commander for Natchitoches has stated that anyone impersonating a militia member will be shot. My tip to everyone: do NOT buy military surplus at this time. That goes double for you Homer._

 _There was a terrible accident in Natchitoches today as the old Keyser bridge collapsed this morning. The bridge was loaded with people heading to and from work. The Copperhead Mercenary Company has been called in to clear the area around the collapsed bridge of radigators, rattlers, gars, and mirelurks while rescue teams try to find survivors. The public outrage though is understandable, as the bridge has not been serviced since the Vault opened years ago and workers had written down numerous reports the bridge was in danger of failing. Not one hour after learning the bridge fell, the mayor was ordering city workers to build a new bridge on top of the old one to restore foot and horse traffic to the Keyser Avenue area. Roughly three hours after the mayor made the announcement public, he stepped out the door to his office and was showered by eggs. Talk about going a bridge too far._

 _In other news, the outpost towns of Natchez and Bellwood have broken off contact recently and militia squads sent to investigate have failed to check in. Rather than risk more soldiers, General John Beauregard Weathers of the Louisiana Militia has requested access to the old Fort Polk armory in order to gain access to both spare suits of Power Armor and other military weapons. So far the request is up in the air._

 _Our last story for the day, merchants along the intact stretch of the old I-49 from Natchitoches to Alexandria report loud noises along the Pineville and Chopin turnoffs. Militia squads from Alexandria and Natchitoches are currently arguing over who's jurisdiction that stretch belongs to. Sounds to me that there's something other than deathclaws and radhogs in them woods..._

 _Okay, that's it for the news for today, and now, by popular request. Here is that old song that you all know so well, here's the man in black, good ol' Johnny Cash singin' Five Feet High and Rising'._

With that, the DJ ceased and that familiar tune started playing. Will smiled and began to sing along with the radio. Drew sat back in the seat and enjoyed the ride back to town.

Once they reached the outskirts of town, Will stopped singing and gasped in surprise. Drew went wide eyed as he saw a sight he'd hoped he'd never see. Flames erupting from several buildings and gunshots echoing throughout the hillside; Robeline, their home, was under attack.

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Well everyone, here's my Fallout fanfic. As always, I hope ya'll like it and again, please rate and review. Also, I may put some new stuff in the story that has never been seen before in the Fallout series. What surprises? You'll have to read to find out, but your guesses are welcome.


	2. Prologue Fallout The Iron Ranger

For those of you who did NOT read the summary and simply clicked on this story because it had 'Fallout' in the title, or do not know the backstory of the 'Fallout' series, on Saturday, October 23rd, 2077, the world as we knew it ended in the Nuclear fires of the 'Great War'.

The story of the series in general follows the story of people who managed to survive in underground fallout shelters known as 'Vaults'. THIS story focuses on an entirely different aspect.

Survivors.

What if, for instance, people survived the Nuclear Holocaust that destroyed the world? What if some units of the military, instead of following orders to 'restore order' or 'safeguard the government' they focused their efforts on protecting the people who were not fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to gain access to a Vault.

What if, because of their disobediance, they became 'fugitives' and were hunted by their former compatriots, soldiers who formed the group known as the Enclave?

What if, instead of surrendering to their 'comrades' to face justice for their crimes and leave the people they had saved to die in the wasteland, they fought back?

This is the story of the United States Marine Corps. 2nd Special Power Armored Corps, 1st Division, 3rd Battalion, D Company, 2nd Platoon. The unit that became known to one and all as the Iron Rangers.

This is their story. A story of valor, courage, honor, hope, loss, and the will to continue doing what is right no matter the cost.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING IN THE FALLOUT UNIVERSE. ONLY MY OCS.

Prologue: War Never Changes

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Date: November 16th, 2285

Time: 0936

Location: Unknown, presumed to be near Waco, Texas.

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An unknown wanderer of the wastes. That's what he was. An unknown figure amidst a sea of unknowns. A descendant of so-called 'heroes' who stood their ground against impossible odds yet somehow found a way to survive and to help others who survived. A descendant of one of the 'legendary' group known as the 'Iron Rangers'.

He didn't know much about them, at least, not anymore than the next fellow. Some say they were part of a branch of law enforcement before the war known as 'Texas Rangers'. Others say they were a group of soldiers belonging to a group calling themselves 'Rangers'. Either way, the tales told about them seem to be too far fetched and way too hard to believe yet alone be possible.

At least, that's what he had thought.

He'd been running for a few days now with the raiders hot on his trail. He was out of water, out of food, and nearly out of ammunition. Food and water he could handle, ammunition he couldn't. Just outside Waco or at least what he THOUGHT was Waco, he found a small shack that had nearly fallen in. Thinking to take shelter, he went in and found the building completely empty except for a rotting old bookcase that seemed to have done more than just hold books.

Sliding the case aside, he found a passage into a small cave under the shack. After replacing the bookshelf and carefully descending the ladder, he came into a small cave that may or may not have been used as an escape from the fallout. He didn't see anything right away but was wary because caves like this usually have two or more entrances and in his experience, had several nasty creatures dwelling in them.

Using the light from his Pip-Boy he'd found on a dead body out in the wastes, he continued into the cave, his trusty 12.7mm pistol at the ready. According to his folks, that pistol was used by his ancestor, the Ranger, but to him, it was a powerful damn handgun that, if he ran out of rounds, for it would fetch him a helluva lot of caps. So far, he'd been lucky to find several places either to barter ammunition or find it on mercs, raiders, slavers, or unlucky individuals who had 'succumbed to the dangers of the wasteland' or had simply pissed him off.

As he proceeded into the cave he became aware that there seemed to be no branching, no other paths that one would find in a natural cave. Still, he didn't drop his guard. Just because the shack up top was empty didn't mean these caves were.

Sure enough he found a few radroaches further along the pass and dealt with them. Furhter along still he found a wooden and metal barricade that had been erected to keep people out of the inner section of the cave. Curiously enough there was a door that seemed to be slightly ajar. Curiousity won out of caution and he opened the door and entered the inner cave system.

The inner part of the cave seemed more 'lived in' than the rest of the cave. There were marks on the wall, crude stair carved out of the rock, even a few places that held old pieces of wood that functioned as torches. Finally, he came to what looked to be the end of the tunnel. Turning around, he decided that if he was to die here by these damn raiders, he'd do it here and make them pay dearly for his life.

He got to work making booby traps all along the path and even trapping the bodies of the radroaches and stringing a grenade to the handle of the door and at the base of the ladder that led to the shack. Once back in the main area, he decided to have a look around this rather spacious interior. As he lit the torches, he noticed an old pre-war hand crank generator in the far side of the cave.

A few turns of the handle got it started and the cavern was soon flooded with light. Then, turning around, he recieved the shock of his life.

There before him was the makings of an entire house. There was a sink, a fridge, a 'toilet' if you could call it that, a bed, long covered in dust, a desk with a computer on it, a trunk that was filled with old rags, and finally, and most shocking, was the body on the floor near the computer. Nothing but a skeleton now but at one point this cave had been this person's home. Even more surprising, nearby was an object that was covered by an old red curtain. Curiousity again got the better of him and he pulled the curtain back revealing yet another surprise that got his heart pounding.

A suit of T-74C Power Armor.

Now he had heard of this armor before. The Brotherhood of Steel near New Austin had come across an old military shipment of the suits and had repaired and repurposed them. Supposedly, they were supposed to be issued to soldiers of the US Army the day the bombs fell but apparently only twelve suits were delivered when the bombs fell.

Ironically, the T-74Cs were all delivered to the men and women who would become the 'Iron Rangers'. Looking closely at the armor, he studied every detail closely. Then he saw it.

Under the dust and marred by time and countless battles, the number '5' emblazoned on the armor's chestplate and left pauldron. His mind raced as he suddenly remembered his grandmother's house. The picture from an old camera hanging on the wall of his grandmother's grandmother standing beside a man in power armor, T-74C model, the number '5' emblazoned boldly on the chestplate and pauldron.

A sense of shock and also amazement filled his heart.

Had the stories been true? Had he of all his family been the one to find the place where his ancestor died? If so then why? Why and how had his ancestor died here in the bottom of a cave?

Naturally the story among his family was that his ancestor, a man who could never turn away a cry for help, responded to a distress signal coming from the east and was never seen or heard from again. Looking back at the armor he noticed several ancient dried bloodstains on the armor but also countless marks of self repair. Looking for answers, he looked to the old computer and booted it up, wiping the dust from the screen and typing in the password he found etched on the desk.

Once he was at the root menu, he found an odd selection:

'Combat Log'

'Repair List'

'Supplies'

'Holotape Cache'

Not surprisingly most of the data was buggy and corrupted but then he happened to select 'Holotape Cache'.

A light beeping noise was heard and a lockbox in a large mechanical container opened and out popped a tray containing several dozen Holotapes. A second later another tray of Holotapes emerged and another and another. He didn't know what to think.

Then, as if his hand was being guided by an unseen force, he reached for a Holotape on the closest shelf. Wiping dust from it, he found a date underneath.

October 23rd, 2077.

Looking around, he found a new type of Pip-Boy that allowed him to play the Holotapes and discarded the old model. He opened the tray, inserted the tape, and started it. He heard a rumbling noise in the background as the tape started and then heard a voice come on.

 _"This is Sergeant Tom Rourk of the United States Marine Corps. 2nd Special Power Armored Corps, 1st Division, 3rd Battalion, D Company, 2nd Platoon. In compliance with the new statute, namely Sierra 10212077-1145, Subsection Echo-11446, 'All soldiers of the United States Military are to keep and record Holotapes of any and all actions done before, during, and after deployment'_ , I am hereby documenting any and all actions of my first assignment starting today."

There was a pause and a curse and he heard something about 'damn bumpy roads and piss-poor suspension'.

 _"Hell, it's just another way for the politicians to shove the leashes further up our asses than they already are. Read between the lines and it's plain as day, we're deploying, we're going to China, and we're going to kick the living shit out of those Commies."_ A few seconds later, a female voice entered the tape.

 _"Hi Rourk, making a letter home? You do know that your Mom don't like you swearing on the tapes home. Before you send it, have the sensor edit out the cursewords in it."_ Another voice, this time a man.

 _"Ha! You know he can't do that Miranda! If the sensor gets ahold of that tape and Rourk sends it home, all his folks'll get a is long static line with a few words here and there. They'll think he was trying to talk to them in code or something."_ Again, Rourk's voice.

 _"Yeah, yeah, cut the shit Stone. By the way, when was the last time you got a Holotape from your wife? Two, no, three months ago?"_

 _"Shit Sarge, it ain't nothing going on like that...Mary and I...we're just having a rough spell is all. I mean ever since Alaska she's...just...well things will be back to normal soon. I tell ya, after we kick the Commies asses and are back home, she'll be all but beggin' to jump into the bed with me again."_ The female 'Miranda' again.

 _"You're such a jerk Stone. Wait a second...Mary? Is that your wife's name or your dog's?"_

 _"Funny Miranda. Very fucking funny. Wait...I didn't know you liked that."_

At that moment, a loud voice exploded onto the tape.

 _"Enough with that grab-ass! Nobody gives a fuck about your sexual preferences! Especially not me! The next person I hear say one word about their loved ones, human, animal, martian, whatever, I am personally kicking their asses off this truck, ripping their heads off and shitting down their necks! Do you get me?!"_ All three voices answered in unison.

 _"We get you, Gunny!"_

 _"Rourk! You record that damn Holotape according to regulations. This is not about shoving a leash up your ass, it is making sure that what is classified will stay classified. If that Holotape had been fitted with a live transmit, you would have broadcast our plans for a preemptive strike to every Tom, Dick, and Harry or rather every Lee, Su, and Kai within fucking transmitting distance! I know I for one wouldn't like to die because of some idiotic Jarhead's loose lips!"_ There was laughter for a moment before anyone spoke again. Apparently this 'Gunny' liked to rant and thus was a source of amuzement as well as authority.

 _"Hey Rourk. So, do you have someone waiting for you back home? A girlfriend? Fiancé?"_

 _"No. Why do you ask? Let me guess, you got a sister who's interested in meeting me."_

 _"Fuck no. The day you get within ten feet of my sister is the day Hell freezes over. I'm asking because...you know..."_

 _"No I'm afraid I don't."_

 _"C'mon man, you've seen the looks she gives ya. Every time you're working out, training, or anything, she's watching you."_

 _"Miranda? I thought she was married?"_

 _"Not anymore. On her last leave she caught her husband with some woman he met at one of those Vault-Tec confrences. She told him if he wanted to spend the rest of his life in a hole in the ground with HER, she hopes that Vault collapses down onto his head."_

 _"Vault-Tec...Hey, Jenson, you put much stock into what they're saying?"_

 _"My old man did. Literally. He's a stock broker for Wall Street. Vault-Tec stocks are quickly becoming one of the most valuable stocks on the market. They're already rivaling RobCo and have blown past everyone else. My old man was the first in line to save a spot in a Vault for us. Vault...81 I believe it was. When he learned I'd enlisted though, he cut me from his will, gave my spot in the Vault to my sister's Chem-addict boyfriend's sister and hasn't spoken to me since."_

 _"Damn. That's harsh."_

 _"Yeah but what can you do? He's just pissed that I wanted to serve my country as a Marine instead of as a stockbroker or a banker. What about you?"_

 _"Dad died a few months back. Had a heart attack when he learned of Alaska. Mom's not too good either. She's in an extended care facility. Half the time she's crying over Dad's death, the rest of the time she's wondering the halls of the place looking for him. I...I haven't had the heart to see her. I want to remember them as they were. Not how they are now."_

 _"I hear you...Hey!"_

 _"Hay's for horses-"_

 _"Shut the fuck up Stone! Listen!"_

Off in the distance, a siren split the sky.

 _"Is that a drill?"_

The echo of an explosion came through the audio along with several voices cursing loudly.

The wanderer knew what he'd heard. He'd just heard the moment when the world as his ancestor knew it, had ended in atomic fire.

The Great War.

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Okay everyone, how'd you like that? I'm posting this primarily as a prologue so that I can get your reactions to it. If you like it, I'll continue it but it will be seen through the eyes of Rourk.

Anyway, if you like it great, if not, at least let me know where I went wrong. After that foreword I hope I can hit the nail on the head.

To repeat, this may or may not be a one-shot depending on your reactions.

Until next time, please review!


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